เข้าสู่ระบบแชร์
Chapter 81
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2026-09-08 18:53:00Lydia ‘s POV
The glass balcony doors of L.V. Global Holdings swept shut behind us, cutting off the roaring gale of media helicopters, the thunderous cheers of the gathered press, and the blinding strobe of flashbulbs in the plaza eighty floors below. The sudden silence inside the Citadel war room was heavy, almost suffocating, broken only by the low, mechanical hum of the subterranean air-filtration system.Outside, the world was drowning in the shockwaves of our victory. On eve
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His fake wife, their real obsession Chapter 82
Lydia’s POV The air in the Citadel’s private quarters was thick with the scent of crushed ozone, heavy velvet, and old wood. Outside the reinforced windows, the city lights flickered in the deep indigo hours before dawn, but inside, the world had shrunk to the warm perimeter of soft candlelight flickering across the mahogany bed.Zane still stood before me, his heaving chest casting a long shadow over the floor, his bleeding knuckles dripping crimson onto the dark carpet. The raw, bleeding question in his eyes—can you ever truly forgive us?—hung suspended in the quiet space between us.I didn't answer him with words.Instead, I stepped across the narrow divide, closing the final inch between us. I reached up, my small hands cupping the hard, stubbled line of his jaw. The contact sent a violent shudder through his broad frame. His eyes dilated, fixed on mine with a mixture of shock and sheer, desperate hunger."There is nothing to forgive," I whispered, my voice cutting through the th
His fake wife, their real obsession Chapter 81
Lydia ‘s POV The glass balcony doors of L.V. Global Holdings swept shut behind us, cutting off the roaring gale of media helicopters, the thunderous cheers of the gathered press, and the blinding strobe of flashbulbs in the plaza eighty floors below. The sudden silence inside the Citadel war room was heavy, almost suffocating, broken only by the low, mechanical hum of the subterranean air-filtration system.Outside, the world was drowning in the shockwaves of our victory. On every financial network across three continents, the Vance empire was collapsing into digital dust. The market cap had vanished, Interpol red notices were flashing in red typeface across international news chyrons, and the public was canonizing the name Lydia Vance-Cross.But inside this room, the air had turned into ice.I stepped away from the balcony threshold, unbuttoning the crisp, tailored jacket of my crimson suit. The fabric felt hot against my skin, weighted down by four years of s
His fake wife, their real obsession Chapter 80
Lydia’s pov The press of a single key on Kian’s terminal sent a shockwave across three continents.Within minutes, the world's primary financial networks, news agencies, and regulatory databases were flooded with the unredacted files of PROJECT REDACTED. Ultra-high-definition video of the staged hotel room, authenticated bank wire receipts, and Damian Vance’s signed brokerage commission streamed continuously on every screen in the financial district.The court of public opinion transformed in an instant. The four-year-old scandal that had once been used to break my reputation was completely demolished, laid bare as a monstrous, illegal conspiracy. My name was clear—and so were the names of Zane, Cassian, and Kian.Below us, the markets reacted with ruthless violence.Vance Logistics and Vance Maritime stocks didn't just slide; they plummeted into an absolute death spiral. The Singapore and London exchanges halted trading on Vance entities after six billion
His fake wife, their real obsession Chapter 79
Lydia’s pov The floor-to-ceiling glass of the main board executive room offered an unobstructed view of the pre-dawn skyline, but inside, every light burned with cold, surgical brightness.At the head of the forty-foot obsidian boardroom table, I sat back in the leather armchair, surrounded by L.V. Global’s senior legal council, crisis management directors, and corporate strategists. Standing like silent, dangerous sentinels behind me were Zane, Cassian, and Kian."We aren't just defending against his injunctions anymore," I spoke, my voice steady, sharp, and cutting cleanly through the nervous murmur of the room. "Damian Vance built his entire empire on leverage, extortion, and stolen legacies. Today, we pull the foundation out from under him."Our lead legal counsel, a veteran international prosecutor, adjusted his glasses as he stacked thick criminal brief folders across the table. "Miss Vance-Cross, the forensic package Mr. Rhys unlocked provides undeniable
His fake wife, their real obsession Chapter 78
Lydia’s pov The heavy quiet inside the Obsidian Lounge felt entirely different now. The ghost of the hotel room four years ago had been stripped of its shadows, leaving behind only the stark, undeniable truth laid bare on the glowing monitors. I turned away from the digital screens to face the three men who had built my defense, commanded my fleets, and guarded my life. "You were drugged, framed, and targeted just as viciously as I was," I said softly, my voice carrying a quiet weight that filled the sanctuary. "For four years, you carried the burden of thinking you failed to protect me that night. But you were innocent pawns in a war built by my own blood." I took a breath, looking into each of their eyes—Zane’s fierce intensity, Cassian’s dark resolve, Kian’s sharp intellect. "Your debt is paid," I whispered, holding my head high. "Your obligations to L.V. Global and to me are finished. If you wa
His fake wife, their real obsession Change 77
Lydia’s pov The high-definition video feed froze on the single, terrifying frame: Arthur Vance’s gold fountain pen lifting off the parchment, his hand firmly grasping Richard Miller’s in a deal forged over my unconscious body.Below the video player, the complete, unredacted PDF of the original marriage deed rendered across the auxiliary display. There, in bold black ink, was my father’s unmistakable, elegant signature—stamped and notarized four years ago while I lay drugged on the hotel sofa.The room seemed to lose all air.For four long years, I had carried the suffocating weight of my own ruin. I had spent countless sleepless nights asking myself what I could have done differently, mourning the cold, demanding father who I thought had simply been too weak to protect me from the Millers. I thought he had surrendered me out of desperation to save his crumbling legacy.He hadn't been weak. He hadn't been desperate.He was the architect.I hadn't be
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